


praise to our faring hearts

by Anemoi



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:39:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3657582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anemoi/pseuds/Anemoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stay behind." He says to Fernando one day after training.</p>
            </blockquote>





	praise to our faring hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Probably factually inaccurate, vague spoilers for Lord of the Rings. Oh, and, brief mention of Luis Suarez.

It starts with two words.

 

_(No, no it doesn't. It starts with Fernando Torres scoring a goal on his debut against Chelsea, flush high on his cheeks as he jumps in to the air to celebrate. Steven feels his heart swoop, thinks inanely: Torres looks good in red.)_

 

-

 

“Stay behind.” He says to Fernando one day after training. Fernando looks him in the eye, and Steven doesn't have to say anything at all. He thinks it shouldn't be this easy, as he busies himself, rummaging around in his locker, waiting for everyone to file out.

But it was. It's just as easy as catching a pass from Fernando on the field.

 

“Keep. Keep your shirt on.” Steven says, breathing hard. They're the last two in the locker room now. Fernando looks up at him through his mussed hair, smiling faintly. He lets his shirt fall back, and sinks against the wall. Steven reaches out, reverent, slides his hands under the elastic of Fernando's shorts, tugs them down. Fernando sighs, lifts a hand to thread it roughly through Steven's hair. He's saying something soft in spanish, dull red spreading slowly across his cheekbones. Still, he holds Stevie's gaze as Stevie sinks to his knees. Maybe thats what Steven fell for, the way they've never been able to hide from each other. Never wanted to hide from each other.

Stevie can feel Fernando's fingers tremble against the back of his head as he slides his mouth around Fernando's cock. Fernando's breath hitches, his hand tugs on Steven's hair hard enough that Steven winces. He holds Fernando's hips down, knowing they'd be bruising by tomorrow.

 

_(He knows, he knows, he won't ever see anything as beautiful as Fernando looked then, shaking apart in nothing but his jersey.)_

 

-

 

Fernando comes over to Stevie's sometimes, when Alex is out visiting her parents, or taking the girls on holiday somewhere. He brings his english books, spreads them out after they've had sex on the bed, tries to do his assigned homework of the week.

Stevie leans over him, tangles his hand in Fernando's hair. “Whats this?”

“Hart.” Fernando frowns, glancing over his writing. Stevie take his pencil and erases the letters, writes the real spelling down.

“It's heart. Hart means deer.”

“Heart.” Fernando says, eyebrows still knitted. He puts his pencil down, huffing in frustration. “Why is english so- so hard.”

Stevie just looks at him, Fernando pouting.Then he laughs, puts a thumb over fernando's brows and smoothes them out.

“Do your homework at home.” Stevie says, moving the textbooks out of the way, and splays a hand in the middle of Fernando's chest, pushes him down on the bed. Fernando goes willingly, smiling, limbs asprawl, yellow hair sticking up on Steven's white sheets.

 

-

 

Fernando's english lessons go well, apparently, because the next time he comes around he brings a book. It's been a couple of months, nothing but lingering hands on the back and hurried kisses after practice. Alex was away for the weekend, taking the girls to London for a shopping trip.

“Coming home with me?” Stevie says after the match. They'd won. Steven thinks he could get used to this, winning, his arm across Fernando's shoulders, the ball hitting the back of the net time and time again. He's giddy with it, thinks _This is what its like to swallow the world whole._ Fernando smiles at him, throws his duffel in to the trunk of Stevie's car, climbs in to the shotgun seat.

 

 

Fernando's reading a giant book in bed when Stevie comes back from the bathroom. His eyes flit up at Stevie, distracted, but he smiles a little. His fingers splay and Steven glimpses the title. It's “The Lord of the Rings”.

“Bit advanced, isn't it?” Stevie says, sitting down by him.

Fernando shrugs, shoulders rolling back. The sheets slide off him, and he turns back around, balancing the book on his stomach.

“I've read the book so many times in spanish. It's easy to read in english now.” He says, careful. He grins up at Steven, proud of his grasp of the language. Stevie ruffles his hair, says, teasing, “Is there magic?”

Fernando rolls his eyes. He dogears the page and sets it down carefully on the bedside table.

“No.” He says, turning back. “Well. A little- but it's about heroes.” Fernando's mouth curves, abashed.

“You know what they say about heroes.” Steven says. He pulls Fernando closer, kisses him. “You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.”

Fernando smirks a little, eyes half lidded. He shrugs.

“Still want to be a hero?” Stevie says.

Fernando laughs, of course, puts a hand to Steven's cheek like he was the younger one. He shakes his head, fond.

 

“You're the hero, Stevie G.”

 

-

Stevie remembers to change the sheets before Alex comes back, but forgets that Fernando's book was still on the bedside table, where he'd left it when he went home. So much for _Lord of the Rings is my favorite book._

“Whats this?” Alex says with a smile, picking it up.

Stevie scratches at the back of his head. “Just trying to read a book, yeah.”

“Aw, Stevie. I'm just teasing.” Alex says, affectionate. “You've gotten that bored without us girls around, eh?”

She puts it down, and comes over, wraps her arms around him. He'd forgotten how well they fit together, how _right_ it feels to hold her. Alex's hair smells like green apples. She giggles when Stevie noses at her neck.

“Go on. I have to make dinner.”

She leaves Steven alone, tracing a finger over the cover page.

 

_(He keeps the book for a week and reads it. When he tosses it back to Fernando at training, Fernando mutters a sheepish “Sorry. Thanks.” Steven ruffles his hair.  
“It's a pretty good book.”)_

-

 

 

The next time Fernando's over, its another month. Alex was out for a photo shoot in New York. Stevie took the girls to his parents', drives away glancing at his rearview mirror, his heart heavy and stone-like.

Fernando eats the noodles Alex left in the fridge. Stevie shakes his head, trying and failing to hide his smile. “Does your missus not feed you properly, mate?” Fernando looks up at him, sucks the last strand of noodle off his fork. Stevie swallows, throat suddenly dry.

“Olalla's back in Spain.” Fernando says, gets up to put the plastic container in the sink. Stevie thinks that'd be a bitch to clean later, but Fernando's getting closer, touches the inside of his wrist as he passes by him. He's unbuttoning his shirt as he walks in to Stevie's bedroom, eyebrows raised.

Steven follows him, heart thumping.

 

-

 

Fernando tells him about the Atlético trophy room, later, when they were pressed together in the middle of the bed.

There's not much Steven could say to something like that. “Oh.” He says.

“That's it?” Fernando says, a smile in his voice.

“You never wanted to leave.” He wonders if Fernando thinks about going home. If the reason why he liked Aragorn's story was that Aragorn got to go home, be crowned king amongst his own people. Then he realizes he could just ask him, so he does.

Fernando's quiet for a bit, then he says, light, “I never wanted to be Aragorn. Wanted to be an elf. That's why I dye my hair.”

He rolls over, heavy in to Stevie's arms.

Stevie buries his smile in the top of Fernando's head. He curls a hand over his neck, presses a kiss under his ear.

“Keep it blonde then. Suits you.”

 

_(He'd never thought that he would really be so similar to Fernando Torres. Except, of course, Fernando had to leave for the good of his club, and well, all Steven had to do was stay. Stay, when everyone else leaves. Funny how the world works.)_

 

-

“I love Alex.” Stevie says. It's some morning. It's just another morning. The days blur. He doesn't really remember, when he thinks back to the day later. Whats important was-

 

“Yes.” Fernando nods, serious. He buries his head in Stevie's chest. That one tuft of hair on the back of his head that never stays down is sticking up, makes him look oh-so-young and boyish. He leans in to Steven, the sunlight streaming in from the blinds behind him pouring itself over his back. Stevie puts his fingertips, light as a kiss, on each of his freckles in turn. His hands make their way up Fernando's spine. Stevie counts the notches, smoothes a hand over the nape of Fernando's neck.

 

“I-” Stevie stops, closes his eyes briefly.

Fernando lifts his head and smiles at him. “I know.” Then, “You love me.” And theres nothing Stevie can say in reply, after all-

So he replaces his fingers with his mouth, and kisses Fernando till his eyelashes tremble.

 

_(“You have to do whats good for you.” He says to Fernando. Fernando's mouth twists, like he knows this particular punchline to a joke Steven didn't even know he'd made._

“ _I'm going to Chelsea.” Fernando says.)_

 

-

 

When Fernando's transfer request goes through, Steven thinks about Fernando's favorite book again, bizarrely. Fiction's a lot simpler than real life, wasn't it. What use were words like loyalty, what use were heroes, when it came down to signing a contract? What use were the fans' adoration compared to the zeros written on your cheque? What use is the little boy by the stands, waving your jersey with all the fervor in his eyes, when your hands are empty of trophies?

 

He watches videos of Liverpool fans burning Torres jerseys in their backyards. He says the words, _Fernando Torres,_ and then he says _traitor._ He says them until they cease to mean anything, until they're just syllables in his mouth, until his mouth is dry and its all just ashes, everything.

Stevie burns his bedsheets, buys a new bed.

 

_( He thinks about Fernando crying in Atl_ _é_ _tico's trophy room before they sold him to Liverpool. So then- Stevie's heart is the real traitor, isn't it? Because Fernando was still Fernando, even in blue. He was still Fernando, and the colors didn't matter.)_

 

-

 

 

The next time they meet Fernando's hair isn't blonde anymore. The next time they meet Stevie doesn't spare him a glance, clasps his hand before the match like he was just another player.

But he knows, and Fernando knows. They could never hide from each other, after all.

 

_(If Stevie had to spell it out, to his heart, or something. It'd go something like- Why did you leave when we needed you? Theres no way Liverpool can love you now. Don't you remember the way they sang your name- don't you remember-_

_And he can hear Fernando's answer, just like he knows, exactly, where Fernando was on the pitch when he wants to pass the ball, some sort of- fucking soul connection, who knows-_

“ _You're not Liverpool, Stevie.”_

_He'd say it with a smile too.)_

 

_-_

 

 

Stevie stays. Stevie stays, and players come and go. Luis comes with his razor smile and his sharp, sharp passes and his killer finishes. Luis, unpredictable, talented Luis, and he leaves for Barcelona after all their dreams burst and hit the dust.

Stevie's familiar with that story. He's well versed. He's less familiar with the way his knees ache, his back pulsing after every 90 minutes. He's less familiar with being benched, and the way he feels exhausted, like being permanently under a cloud he can't push off. The understanding hits him, one day. He lets it hit him. He thinks, _Ah._

Stevie thinks about phoning up Fernando. He remembers that Fernando's finally back in Madrid.

_Did they welcome you back like a king?_ He wants to ask.

Instead he starts his transfer request. Stevie thinks of somewhere warm. Bloody hell, he won't make Fernando's mistake. If he had to live in exile, it'd be somewhere warm, no more freezing rain for him. Maybe beaches, too. No rain, unless its the soft, summer kind. Big city, so Alex won't have to hop trains to go to fancy shops.

He thinks, _Los Angeles_.

 

 

_(He does phone Fernando, in the end, asks him to come to his Charity match. He says yes. Steven knew he'd say yes._

_The real test was seeing how fast he'd pick up._

_3 rings._

_4 years, and his heart's like a wide open window, still waiting, still soft.)_

 

-

 

He's not the boy Steven fell in love with anymore, when they next meet, surrounded by their old friends. Maybe now he's learned his lessons, lost his fire, became someone colder, less idealistic. Steven wants to think, _good riddance,_ wants to feel satisfaction, but. There are worry lines between his eyebrows that Stevie can't smooth out with his thumb anymore. It makes Stevie's chest tighten, the way Fernando's eyes flit, the way he tucks in to himself, either out of uncertainty or shame.

He looks at Stevie like Stevie's solid land in an ocean he'd been drowning in.

“Stevie.” He says, soft, a smile breaking unrestrained across his face.

 

Steven opens his arms.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> _"And who remains shall flower as they love,_   
>  _Praise to our faring hearts."_
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> Literally everything to do with LOTR is true. Fernando is a nerd. Thank you for reading, comments appreciated. <3


End file.
